Some failing, Nature did to each assign :, Though now, perchance, my limbs seem lank and spare, Make quest-my prowess many will declare, Two nights great Jove to fair Alcmena clung, What? when Achilles left Briseïs' side, The one a nation's navy could o'erthrow, In me behold a valiant Hector too. See how the sky enjoys two favourites' charms— Should one make bold my fond embrace to flee. Or if my slave has roused her ire, as sure An anxious mother doubly cares for twins. XIII b. Aut, si es dura, nega: sin es non dura, venito! IF cold, refuse; if kind, come hither, love! To dash at once a lover's cherished dream. In bed he sighs and tosses spirit-sore, To think his darling seeks a stranger's arms; XIV. THE RAKE'S PROGRESS. Cui fuit indocti fugienda haec semita volgi. ALL fancy for the rabble road 'twas once my aim to smother, Is he to ask times o'er and o'er what temple she may be in, And in what park she's walking now; and then, when he has sought The town all through, and borne a host of toils quite Herculean, To get from her a note like this: "What present have you brought?" To be allowed to scan her surly warder, and, detected, To skulk away perhaps in some abominable slum? How dearly once a-year comes round a night we've long expected! On those whom bolted doors delight may every evil come! Give me the girl who boldly walks, her veil thrown back behind her, Unwatched by guards whose jealous eyes one's peace of mind destroy Who treads the Sacred Way with muddy shoe, and when you find her, And whisper in her ear your wish, is anything but coy. She'll never put you off, nor for the paltry guinea stickle, The loss of which your cross-grained sire would mourn in sore dismay; Nor will she say, "I'm terrified; be off, I'm in a pickle,— My husband, who's been out of town, is coming home to-day." With maidens from Euphrates and Orontes I'm in clover. over, The man who sets his heart on love to freedom bids farewell. XV. THE POET'S EXCUSE. Tu loqueris, cum sis jam noto fabula libro, "AND do you talk-you, now a byword grown, Were Cynthia kind as girls of lower price, For fan a peacock's tail she now demands, I blush to be the jest of a coquette. * Aut pudor ingenuost aut reticendus amor.—(Munro.) XVI. SEPARATION. Hoc erat in primis quod me gaudere jubebas? Was this the peerless joy in store for me? With me in genius let my rival vie, Bid him on Lerna's brood his prowess test, Me not the Sibyl's years, though vast their range, Though thine nor wealth nor ancient pedigree !" |